The Winx Drabbles
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: A series of drabbles requested by tumblr anons; An Icy/Gantlos new year kiss, a Darcy/Darkar night in the dark, an Icy/Acheron/Valtor love triangle, an Icy/Valtor drabble in which Icy is a dancer and that's how Valtor met her, and a Winx at Hogwarts.
1. The Silent New Year

Gantlos really wasn't one for stupid new year's resolutions, he only ever really had one. Each year is goal was to get laid at least one more time before the new year.

This year his eyes were on a certain witch.

She'd always sat or stood in front of him at the bar with her friends. Each new year's eve the trio would pretty much run the place.

She never really seemed to noticed him aside from 3 years back when she had taken him to the dance floor. She was probably drunk. He was a lot of things…but he certainly wasn't going to take her to his house in such a state.

Perhaps this year would be his lucky year.

This year would certainly be different in the light that he would try to make conversation with her as opposed to the reverse.

The woman was sitting on the near the stage, drink in hand. Her sisters had gone their separate ways. Stormy to play pool and Darcy to draw as much attention to herself as possible…each of the men fighting to get a new year's kiss from her.

Icy took a drink of whatever beverage was in her hand. She cast a glace over her shoulder. Gantlos could swear she was looking right at him.

And maybe she was.

She shot him a wink.

He slowly strode up to her. "Can I get you a drink?"

She offered him sassy sort of smile and pointed to the drink in her hand._Right! How could he be so stupid? She had a drink already. He knew that. What had possessed him to offer her a new one?_ "How about I buy you a more expensive drink?"

She moved her finger to the label on the glass; she had already bought herself the most expensive shit the place had to offer…and it was not cheap. Not at all.

"Mind if I sit down?" He asked.

She slid over and patted her hand on the empty space next to her.

"You don't talk much do you?"

She shook her head no and mouthed the word 'can't'.

He stared at her for a moment or two trying to figure out what the witch had meant by can't. "Someone tell you not to?"

She shook her head, no, once more. She picked up a pen and wrote on a napkin—it was a story of an accident, a bad one. One that she wasn't supposed to recover from. One where she was suppose to have been dead or paralyzed.

That would explain her absence at last year's new year party.

She cocked her head waiting for a response.

He didn't really have one to offer her. What could he say, really? "I'm sorry." "That sucks." Neither really seemed sufficient.

"I'm glad you're doing better." He settled on. "Glad that you could make it to the party this year.

She nodded affirmatively and placed her hand over his.

They remained that way for a few minutes before Icy pointed to the countdown clock.

It was running slowly out of time. Each second seemed to be passing unnaturally slowly as he stared at the witch's lips.

They were unsurprisingly cold on his own, but surprisingly gentle and graceful.

In that moment he knew that this was going to be his lucky year.


	2. Shadowed Caress

The room was lit only by candles. Just the way they liked it.

A little dark…a little quiet was all they needed.

Even if they were just going to sit there doing nothing at all. Just staring at each other in what little light danced on the candle's wick.

It was only in this fraction of light that Darkar removed his phoenix helmet. He was a charming man beneath that amour; dark caramely skin, deep brown eyes, thick ruffled black hair…

She couldn't figure out why the man wouldn't just leave that helmet off.

She bought her lips to his, softly.

Passionately.

The kiss was long and deep.

If her sisters knew…well she wouldn't let that happen. She couldn't. A witch wasn't supposed to love, not genuinely.

But the closer she bought her body to his, the more intense the forbidden emotion grew.

He trailed his lips from her neck to her stomach, not missing a spot.

No, her sisters could never know. Not about this. Not about anything. But she wasn't worried about that at the moment. Not even slightly.

All she needed was here in the room with her now.

Here in the dark.

Here with the smoke and candles…a soft black cherry scent.

She blew them out one by one.

All they needed was dark.

All they needed was silence.

Sweet sweet shadow.

Sweet sweet kiss.


	3. For Her

There was nothing Icy enjoyed more than a good fight. This one in particular was over her so it was thrice as amusing as other fights.

She watched the men throw both insults and punches each trying to come up with something wittier than the next.

Valtor's insults were a special kind of comedy. They were all rather horrid. "You story ends here." He bellowed.

Acheron was usually pretty taken aback by just how bad the insult was, basically to the point of no words.

"My story ends here…" His eye was practically twitching. "Why I've heard better insults from…from…my shoe. No! From Selina. And Selina is really bad with insults."

At this rate Icy was ready to accept Darcy's hand in marriage over either of these two.

Valtor looked over at Icy.

"You're fighting over me, I'm not. Come up with your own insults." Icy shrugged.

"Well your insults blow harder than than Stella…" Valtor muttered.

Icy spat out her drink. "I knew you could do it."

Acheron "How completely vulgar."

"Not as vulgar as yo mom!" Valtor hollered.

"Your jokes are almost older than you." Acheron noted.

"You both are terrible at this. One of you is fighting with ridiculous puns and the other…such cliche stuff." Icy rolled her eyes. "None of your insults were truly impressive."

She looked over at Acheron. "And frankly the idea of spending the rest of my life in a storybook…" She visually cringed. She turned to Valtor "Your insults, aside from the Stella one, don't hold much appeal at all. But I suppose that's what I like about them. I rather enjoy watching someone try so hard at something they are so bad at."

"What are you saying?" Acheron asked.

"I'm saying Valtor holds more appeal to me." Icy raised an eyebrow.

"He's an embarrassment to dark sorcerers everywhere!"

"Yup." Icy let a snide smile slide across her face. "And this embarrassment to sorcerers is coming home with me." She shot him a wink.


	4. Peppermint Paper

Her body, scantily clad moved and swayed to the sultry tune in the background. It created a sensual mood, slow and enticing

Her skin sparkled with a mix of the silver glitter you could find at a craft store and a sort of frosty sparkle he knew she'd fashioned for herself. Each time she moved out of the dark, one of the dim strobe lights would catch the glitter and lit her skin with a unique glow.

She was beautiful.

The way her silvery hair wrapped around her body was most graceful. Most alluring. She ran a hand over that silky soft hair, showering a puff of glitter and fake diamonds to the floor.

She smelled of peppermint and vanilla.

She ran her other hand down her chest and to her stomach, misty blue eyes never leaving Valtor's own.

She moved both of her hands to his knees and dropped her self to the floor. A charming and seductive smile playing at her lips.

He moved his hands to her hips.

"Perhaps I can talk to you outside the club?" He offered.

She raised an eyebrow and continued her dance.

She no longer had her body pressed to his, his hands no longer playing about her soft, cold, pale skin.

She looked at the clock behind her. "Looks like our time is up." She winked and headed in a direction opposite of him. He longed to pay for some more time with her…but he was fresh out of money, at least the money he carried around.

He was just at the door when she returned, leaning against the wall by the door.

She slipped a piece of paper down his pants. When she turned her back he fished it out and unfolded it.

The paper smelled much like her.

On the peppermint paper her number was scrawled.

She gave another wink and waved him out.


	5. The Hat

Icy stared down at the hat resting on the chair. "I'm not putting this filthy thing on you know."

Dumbledore's eye gave a small twitch. It was Bellatrix all over again. "Please. Just put on. The hat."

"Not a chance." Icy folded her arms across her chest.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Everyone else put it on. Valtor put it on."

"Valtor is an idiot." Icy pointed out.

"Thanks." The man muttered from the Slytherin table.

"Always a pleasure." Icy rolled her eyes. She pushed the Sorting Hat to the floor and took its place on the chair.

The hat let out a furious cry. "Such disrespect. Clearly this woman is a Slytherin"

Icy held up her chin. "See I didn't need to put that dirty thing on."

"However since she decided to steal my chair…I always sit in that chair…I'll just put her in Gryffindor instead." The hat said smugly.

There was a collective groan from the Gryffindor table. "You can't put me in Gryffindor…they don't want me there just as much as I don't want to be there!"

"I have spoken!" The hat boomed.

Icy knew a certain hat that was going to go up in flames.

"Enjoy the Gryffindor table." Valtor yelled.

And apparently the pants of a certain man would also be aflame. She strode over to the Gryffindor sat down next to a little red-head. Right in between she and the fluffy-haird girl. Both of which weren't to thrilled at her arrival.

The first class Icy was forced to endure was some sort of flying class. It was a rather pointless class as Icy didn't need a broomstick to fly. Frankly all the class would do is re-enforce the stereotypes.

She picked up the broomstick anyhow.

It was actually quite a fun experience…

Hitting someone in the face with a huge ball…a bludger if she re-called correctly.

She would try out for the Quittage team with one goal in mind; not to win the game, but simply to see how many people she can send to the hospital wing.

Tryouts wouldn't be any problem at all…everyone wanted to be a seeker anyways. Aside from that Professor Hooch (no surprised) seemed to think she was a natural.

Yup, this would be a wonderful year…she'd get to cause pain and get away with it.


	6. Midnight Serenade

Bloom let out a howl of laughter as another high note filled the night.

Part of her felt bad for the dude, he just wanted to show her affection. But more of her-the immature side-just couldn't resist seeing how this one was going to play out.

Poor Brandon had been kneeling outside her neighbor's window for the past five, maybe ten, minutes singing "Oh Bloom I love you" followed by a mess of reasons for that from her "bright red fiery sun hair" to her "ocean pearl blue eyes."

Bloom turned to Layla, "he's kind of cute, that's for sure."

"I guess so." Layla replied as she thumbed through her sports magazine, paying only half attention. "Though I'm sure this..." she nudged towards the window, "is why Stella broke up with him."

"The secondhand embarrassment is overwhelming." She added.

"I don't think it's _that _bad." Bloom laughed. "Okay, so I'd never want to get caught serenading the wrong house. Especially when the people in it aren't even in town."

"Honestly he's lucky they're out of town." Layla shrugged. "Saves him a little face."

With a sigh, Bloom pushed the window open. "Hey dude, over here." She weaved her arms. "Still living in the same house I've always lived in."

"Oh shit!" She heard him scream. "I thought you lived in this one!"

Bloom leaned out the window, laughing until her sides ached. Any harder and she'd probably have taken a fatal tumble. Literally dying of laughter.

"You're something else Brandon, you know that."

He rubbed the back of his head. "Oh be quiet! This is all your fault."

"Pick up your roses and guitar and come on in!" Bloom motioned.

Layla found her place at the windowsill. "You have to serenade us first."

"I already did."

"No, you sang to the neighbor's empty house." Bloom pointed out.

Brandon walked over to the correct house, rolled his eyes, knelt down, and started his gushy song all over again.

It was nights like these that made Bloom wish summer would never end. This memory was totally a keeper.


	7. Digits

Bloom stirred her fruit punch with a dull expression. This was the third suite and tie party she'd been to this week. And they were becoming a bore really quickly. The fairy decided to spice it up a little by breaking out her tux instead of the frill dresses Stella an the others insisted she wear.

She felt way more comfy in the tux anyhow.

But it wasn't nearly enough to ease her boredom. After all it was just an outfit and apparently it hadn't drawn enough attention to make the formal more interesting.

She drummed her fingers upon the table. To her happiness she noticed Icy walking in her direction. At least she'd get _something _to do. The witch never made for a pleasant time but after three boring nights Bloom felt rather inclined to choose unpleasant over uneventful.

"You're wearing a tux?" Icy scoffed.

"Is that a problem?" Bloom shot back.

"Well you _are _a fairy. Glittery dresses and pink frills are your thing. Aren't you supposed to stick to it?"

"I'm here, I'm queer. Get used to it." Bloom replied flatly.

"What does that have to do with you wearing a tux?"

Bloom shrugged. "Nothing I guess. I just thought that the tux was a bolder way of hinting that I am probably at least a little gay."

Icy snickered. "Is that right?"

"You have a problem with me being gay?" Bloom muttered.

Icy thought for a moment, "yes."

"Excuse me?!" Bloom stood abruptly.

"My problem is that you are gay and you are not with me." The ice witch slid a slip of paper across the table.

Bloom blinked up at Icy. "What? Do you just keep your cell number in your pocket?"

"Never know when you're going to find someone to hit on." Icy shrugged. "I mean technically I've been hitting on you for a while now in the literal sense. But now we can take our fighting into the bedroom."

Bloom blinked again. "Okay, whatever you say."

"Great, I'll see you at tomorrow's formal." Before Bloom could protest, the witch sauntered off, leaving the fairy to wonder how it was even possible for Magix to hold this many boring formals.

She looked at the small digits scrawled neatly on the paper. At least she'd have something pleasant to do at the next one.


	8. Trade Off

Darcy hadn't talked to her in weeks and Icy would only snicker when she asked for some help. Not that she had expected things to happen any other way; Darcy could hold a wicked grudge and Icy wasn't known for her charitable acts.

What she hadn't expected was for Riven to fall for her in the first place. She meat simply that, of all of her sisters, she was probably the least attractive. That's what everyone else lie to say. And she was the least 'mature' as Icy put it. After a certain point she just sort of accepted it.

So it's not like she had meant for Riven to fall for her. She didn't particularly mean to steal him from Darcy. But it had happened all the same. And with Darcy feeling far past angry with her and Icy on Darcy's side, Riven was pretty much the only person she had.

He had his hand brushing through her hair whispering about how fluffy and lovely it was. The same hair everyone seemed to enjoy throwing stuff in an laughing at. "Yeah it's pretty great isn't it." Stormy murmured despite her thoughts. After all, that was part of being a witch; masking her emotions.

"I'm sorry I got your friends angry with you." Riven stated suddenly, tearing open a raw spot that never healed in the first place.

"Eh, it doesn't matter, they'll come around." Stormy replied, adding a silent _I hope_.

Riven lay a kiss on the top of her head.

"You know, I would feel you kisses a lot better if they weren't in my hair all the time." Stormy pointed out.

"Well, where would you like them." Riven smirked.

"Honestly, anywhere at this point." She thought for a moment. "On the cheek or the forehead would do just well." She tapped her cheek with her pointer.

Riven rolled his eyes, "odd choices."

Stormy shrugged. Somewhere down the line-and despite her words-Stormy had decided that she didn't want the kind of sexy, steamy, and passionate love that Darcy had nor the raunchy and rough love Icy often displayed.

Some part of her, however small, wanted to show Riven that witches could be just as delicate as faeries. Or maybe it was that she didn't want him to go wiggling back to Musa, leaving her with no one at all.

"Forehead it is." Riven replied, cutting off her line of thought. No sooner did his lips fall on her forehead, his fingers tangling in her hair. Stormy found herself returning the gesture until the pair found themselves laying down, Riven on top. She wrapped her legs around his torso.

Perhaps he liked it steamy or rough. Maybe that's why he called it off with Musa. However he liked his romances, Stormy would go along with it, she hadn't any preference herself. His hand dipped slightly below her lower back, fingertips just under her waistband. She kissed his temple.

Whatever was to come, Stormy would be alright.

At least for the time being.


End file.
